
Why is it hard to open our true selves up to others? Sometimes the hands begin to type the truth before the mind suspects it.
Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry - Words: 167 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 06-28-05 - id: 1950733
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in unfading glow words gleam
blink and refuse to be satisfied
until stories in unaltered entirety
drip from my flying fingertips
without analyzing the sound
pressure releases in a moment
ears waiting for advice will receive
new strains of utter humility
instead of flying above the fray
I am not so invulnerable
like you, emotions lying deep
like you, tears streaming into a sea
like you, those unmentionable wounds
somehow ache on without mention
until now, if the courage sustains
they always ask what is best
believing I've undeciphered it all
a labyrinth solved within my eyes
while supported by my strength
ceaseless questions never start
neither understanding nor recognition
I cannot balance unheld forever
but supposed perfection fills their view
finished letters meet death in delete
even though I crave confession
this longing will never be fulfilled
curse and wish away this fear
of exposing myself as flawed
someone with need of another
the words disappear into nothing
the armor forms its shape once more
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